


Just because i can't have you, doesn't mean i don't want you

by Baryshnikov



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Asexual Character, I have no idea how old they are but they're not underage, Legilimency, M/M, Occlumency, This is a bad summary, Tom has freckles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baryshnikov/pseuds/Baryshnikov
Summary: Abraxas is resigned to fantasising about what he wants- at least until it's no longer fantasy





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone’s eyes followed Tom when he walked in somehow, he made his robes look so beautiful, perhaps it was the way they hung off his tall frame. Abraxas looked down, embarrassed. His eyes were always drawn to beautiful things even when it was just a superficial beauty. After all, Tom wasn’t pretty inside, he’d always sensed it, and after he’d stood outside the muggle residence and watched his friend come gliding out, showing a little smile and a wicked glitter in his eyes, he’d known it. Inside Tom was cruel and twisted as all nasty things are. But outside, he was so pretty. That complete silence that surrounded him was so calming until you saw that little smile. It was a small indication that Tom was thinking something outlandish, something terrifyingly brilliant and he was inviting them to share in it. Those moments of power were so intoxicating, he felt like he was drowning in power and his only guide was Tom: the one static point in time. The one true thing that existed. The light for the darkest places. The past, the present and the future. He was just so lovely.  
But Tom had made his preferences clear, he didn’t have any. Witches weren’t his thing, neither were wizards, neither were any other fetishistic paraphilias Abraxas had so casually brought up. Tom didn’t like people and he didn’t like things. Tom was different, not in a bad way, except it was bad, for Abraxas, because Tom didn’t want to be with people.  
“Did you hear that, Malfoy?” said Avery.  
Abraxas looked up. “Too busy daydreaming about her?”  
Abraxas kept his mouth shut but planned to change the subject, talk about potions or history of magic or Christmas, anything other than what he was thinking about.  
“Daydreaming about who?” said Tom, the others looked over. Tom rarely said anything in their more trivial discussions.  
“About that Slytherin bird, I mean, the one with those legs that go for days and a proper nice rack,” continued Avery. He’d always lacked a degree of class, sophistication, taste with words- as Tom always reminded him he was nice to look at, not to hear.  
Tom turned his gaze to Abraxas, and with that little smile he shook his head and went back to his book. Abraxas lowered his eyes and watched the tapping of Mulciber’s fingers, it was annoying.  
He could feel Tom’s eyes on him, feel that intense gaze burning into his skull. It was painful, a harsh sting inside his head. He got up to leave.  
The others clamoured for an explanation, he didn’t hear them.  
“Where are you going, Abraxas?” said Tom. He stopped, the pain subsided for a moment. “I don’t feel well, I’m going to bed.”  
“Stay.”  
It wasn’t a request and it wasn’t going to be repeated, people didn’t leave without permission. He nodded and walked back to his seat. Tom smiled, “thank you, Abraxas.”  
He shouldn’t fixate on that lovely voice, but it was just so lovely, and for just a moment it felt warm. Tom was never warm with people he disliked, and even to those, he pretended to like if you listened carefully you could hear the brittle quality that coloured Tom’s voice when he felt whoever he was talking to was beneath him. Some would mistake it for adulation, but if you knew Tom you would know that was not his intention.  
~  
Abraxas dared to look up, Tom flicked through his book and the others laughed, loudly and crudely at whatever girl had made the mistake of assuming they were gentlemen. Tom only looked up when someone mentioned Myrtle. He’d always had an interest in Myrle; Abraxas never knew whether he should be grateful he didn’t receive the attention or jealous because she did.  
The conversation drifted, and Tom finished his book. 

Abraxas glanced up, the pain still in his head. Tom was smiling, properly smiling at something Lestrange had said. He hated Lestrange and his easy words, his smooth, silky words that could wrap anyone in a spider’s web. But those words made Tom look so pretty. Yet, he would look so much prettier lying on his stomach on Abraxas’ bed, his head aching and dizzy. The pain in Abraxas’ own head intensified.  
Abraxas could almost see Tom’s hands shaking as they would reach for the sheets in a raw desperation, something to hold on to, something to steady him as he was fucked. He would be sticky with sweat and rosy from his exertion. The pink of his blush a compliment to the earthiness of his freckles. His face arranged like a garden, filled with dappled sunlight, fallen petals and flecks of dirt. Abraxas wanted to trace those freckles with his tongue, listening to Tom’s heavy, uneven breathing- the only indication that he was losing control for the first time in his life.  
Abraxas felt his stomach twitch at the thought of Tom like that. But it also jumped when he was the one lying so vulnerable beneath him. Something screamed at him that Tom would be controlling, dominating. Keeping him on edge and playing with his mind. Abraxas wasn’t new to edge-play. Tom would like that, and he would like that Tom would like it.  
It would start with his teeth, biting his neck, drawing blood if he was lucky. Then there would be knives, Tom pushing the boundaries of what was really safe. Then Tom would show him those spells even his father wouldn’t teach him. Abraxas could almost feel their cruelty cutting into his skin and making him writhe with pleasure.  
He blushed and looked up, all the boys were still talking, lighting their cigarettes with their wands and laughing. Even Tom wasn’t looking at him, that didn’t stop him smiling though.  
The room felt very heavy and too hot. He stood up to open a window.  
“I do hope you’re not leaving us,” said Tom, not looking up.  
“It’s too hot.”  
“The rest of us are fine, sure you’re not bothered by – something else?”  
Abraxas tried hopelessly to read his expression, “I’ll leave the window shut then.”  
“If you want.”  
~  
Tom stretched and ran a hand through his hair in a way that made it look deliciously pullable. “Could you all leave now,” he said casually like they were all here at Tom’s whim, which they were. Abraxas was the first to rise.  
“Not you Abraxas, I need to talk to you.”  
The others nudged him and laughed. Tomorrow he would get jokes about him being the favourite, and perhaps he was, but not the favourite enough to get away with everything he wanted to get away with.  
When the others had filed to their dormitory, it was quiet, too quiet. Tom smiled and stood up, Abraxas stayed in his chair. Tom came nearer and leaned forward. His hand gripped Abraxas’ shoulder.  
“You were very quiet today, it’s not like you, I do hope you’re ok?” said Tom with feigned compassion.  
“I said I didn’t feel very well.”  
“Shame,” he leaned closer, “you have some interesting fantasies, Abraxas.”  
His throat felt sticky, he swallowed and held Tom’s eyes. If it were possible Tom inclined his head closer still.  
“I was surprised, you have some much more interesting proclivities than I imagined.” The heat of his breath prickled across Abraxas’ lips and made his breathing hot and heavy. The hand on his shoulder gripped tighter and he smiled, “I look forward to seeing some more.”  
Tom withdrew, his fingers trailing across Abraxas’ neck, nail scratching over the pulse. He left the room. Abraxas stayed in his chair, the room was spinning, and his heart was pounding, and his legs were weak, and he wanted to throw up the butterflies in his stomach.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is, at the very least, unhelpful, and at the very worst insufferable.

Abraxas avoided Tom, all day. He avoided him in the corridors and stayed in the common room at lunch. After lessons, he went alone to the library. He didn’t see Tom and he was grateful.  
~  
Still, in the library, the dust dancing in the fading sun, the door creaked, and faint footsteps got louder. Looking up he could see Tom; he was scanning each of the desks until he saw him.  
Abraxas watched as Tom seated himself just across the table. He held a large book, probably from the restricted section; Tom didn’t like to read books that everybody else read, no, he had to have the special ones. The ones that showed he wasn’t an ordinary wizard, he wasn’t like the rest of them. Tom was different, Tom was special, and he had to make the rest of them aware of it.  
He looked just as pretty now as he had last night. The fading light cast that dusky orange glow that can make the ordinary stunning and transform the already beautiful into something godlike.  
The library was silent other than his own pen’s scratching and the flicking of Tom’s pages, it would be closing soon, and they would leave together, and they would walk together and for once in his life Abraxas would act on his feelings and pull Tom into a doorway and kiss him and he would whine, and he would pull him into his private prefect’s room and –.  
He looked up, Tom was watching him intently, so intently he didn’t bother being embarrassed. Instead, he held Abraxas’ gaze and smiled.  
“What are you thinking about, Abraxas?”  
He swallowed thickly. A trickle of thoughts slipped into his mind. Painful invasive thoughts that knew exactly what he wanted: Tom, all of them were Tom. Tom biting his lip as he leaned on the doorframe. Tom looking so perfect in the distorted light of rain. Tom grabbing his neck and kissing him. Tom lying in his bed, flushed and panting, eyes blurred- perfectly fucked. It felt so filthy, it looked so filthy and yet the thought made him dizzy.  
Abraxas held the desk to steady himself.  
“You don’t look very well, Abraxas,” said Tom standing as if to help him. More flashes, half-explored fantasies of Tom slicked with sweat as he lay in bed, Tom soaking wet from a shower, water dripping from his eyelashes and smirking, always smirking- as if he knew Abraxas shouldn’t be watching him.  
That same smile was on Tom’s face now. It hit him then, knocking the breath out of his lungs.  
“Do you want me to call for someone?” said Tom as if Abraxas needed a house-elf to find a missing sock and was not flushed and breathing heavily in the airless library.  
The sun continued to sink and lit up Tom’s dark eyes and his thick eyelashes and all the smooth perfect curves of his face. “If you don’t say anything, I’ll have to assume that you’re fine.”  
Abraxas breathed deeply, steadying himself, “I am fine, no thanks to you.”  
“What are you talking about? Are you sure you’re not feverish?” said Tom, not raising his voice, in fact, he revealed no change in intonation, just his usual cold passivity.  
“You used Legilimency.”  
Tom stood up now and leaned over the desk, “now why would I need to do that, Abraxas? Everyone knows you think about me enough without me having to add any more.”  
Abraxas looked away, “stay out of my head,” he said quietly.  
“Only when your mind becomes boring. I wish you could see it Abraxas, yours is such a complex mind; so many secrets and dark little places you subconsciously try and keep me out of.”  
“So, you were inside my head?”  
“Perhaps.”  
Another image slinked into his head. It was different, this time it was him. His back arching, head pushed back, neck exposed. He was panting, whining, moaning. Hands clasping at the sheets. Abraxas felt his mouth go dry as his groans reverberated inside his head. He looked so desperate, so raw, so fuckable.  
He stood up, “I’m leaving.”  
~  
He went straight to his dormitory and plunged himself under a cold shower. It was freezing, the water splattering off his shoulders and into his eyes. He wet his hair and ran his hands over his face. He resisted the gathering urge in the base of his stomach to touch himself. Tom would work it out and would smirk and – Abraxas didn’t want to think about what would happen, that was why he was here, with his cheeks burning and his heart pounding. He should have more control, he knew that Blacks were emotional, Malfoys were not. Malfoys were cold-hearted and smooth and always got what they wanted. They did not take cold showers to avoid openly drooling over gorgeous half-blooded wizards. He sighed and got out of the shower.  
~  
He went back to the common room. Tom was sitting, not reading or working or with the others, just sitting. He looked up when Abraxas entered.  
“How are you, Abraxas?”  
“Fine.” He sat down opposite, sensing Tom wasn’t here just to sit.  
“It has come to my attention that you have an unhealthy interest in me, and something needs to be done –”  
“- I’ll stop. I will. I promise,” said Abraxas in a brief panic; Tom’s solutions were rarely simple or, in his experience, painless.  
“Don’t interrupt me, Abraxas. You have an unhealthy interest in me, some might even call it an obsession.” Abraxas opened his mouth, Tom glared at him, “I said don’t interrupt me. I need to know what would make this problem disappear. Please don’t mistake this for me rebuking you of course. I have no issue with your fantasies, only the fact they distract you. So?”  
Abraxas stared at him.  
“I’m waiting, Abraxas.”  
“What for?” he said dumbly,  
“Your answer. What would stop you being so distracted, so wound up that you can’t even concentrate on the simplest thing? People have noticed; noticed that you sit staring gormlessly into space. They think you’re in love. But we know better, don’t we? You’re not in love, although I don’t doubt you think you are. What do you want, Abraxas?”  
“I want nothing.”  
“Don’t lie to me, you know I know you’re lying. I also know you wanted me to see.”  
Abraxas looked up, “excuse me?”  
“I’m not stupid, and neither are you. I know you’re good at occlumency, exceptional by all accounts. You know very well you could have stopped me at any time, and that begs a new question. Do you want me to see?”  
“You already answered that question yourself.”  
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.”  
Abraxas swallowed, his throat felt dry. “Yes. I wanted you to see. But why did you show me what you did?”  
“Because it was what you wanted to see, was it not? Me, in every way you could imagine and some ways only the hidden most parts of your mind does.” Tom stood up and leaned over Abraxas’ chair; a hand on either of the arms and his face just inches from Abraxas’. “You find me – alluring, desirable, fuckable.”  
It sounded obscenely erotic. “You might as well just tell me, we both already know.” He moved his right hand to Abraxas’ knee and slowly dragged it up his thigh. “Are you going to tell me how much you want me? How much you want to have me whining beneath you. How much you want to be the one fucking me. I don’t beg for things Abraxas, but I might make an exception for your lovely face.”  
Abraxas looked up at him, they were too close for this to look like anything other than what it was. He knew Tom, pretty Tom, could see all his thoughts now; he could see how much he wanted to kiss him. For a moment Abraxas thought he was going to. Then the door opened.  
“Tom?” said Lestrange from the door.  
“Lestrange,” said Tom. Abraxas craned his neck to see that sweet talking Lestrange, his head tilted back, and a slight smirk scrawled across his irritatingly pretty features.  
“I can come back later if you’re – umm – busy?”  
“No, I’m coming.”  
He turned back to Abraxas, “I do hope you enjoyed this, we’ll have to do it again soon.”  
Tom slipped his hand back down Abraxas’ thigh and leaned away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Abraxas,” he said leaving the room, walking too close to Lestrange.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas' fantasies are no longer just fantasies

They were all sitting in the common room: Tom, Abraxas, Avery, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott, and Lestrange. Tom was reading, the occasional raising of his eyebrow the only indication he was listening to anything they were saying. Abraxas was trying to listen, but it was hard when every so often he would catch Tom’s eye and that would make him far too hot for comfort.   
He was watching the gentle curve of Tom’s lips and thinking of those long fingers running along his jaw and up his thigh when Dolohov walked in.   
“Abraxas give up your seat to a worthy cause.”  
Abraxas didn’t move, “where am I supposed to sit then?” he said, interested in what Tom would suggest, there weren’t after all, any spare seats.   
“Here,” said Tom, moving his legs from the sofa and crossing them instead, “come on, I don’t bite.” The others snickered like schoolchildren.   
Abraxas sat down, his arm was resting against Tom’s. Usually, Tom made them keep their distance, his outstretched legs a barrier to anyone thinking of invading his personal space. Abraxas could see Lestrange watching them while pretending to take interest in whatever Dolohov was talking about.   
He ignored Lestrange.   
Tom was warm next to him. It was nice to hear him breathing, to be reminded that this being filled with the most brutally raw magic was still flesh and blood. He still needed air, still needed food, still needed water. He was beautiful but still made of the same stuff as he, himself was.   
Tom moved his legs slightly, they scraped against Abraxas’. Lestrange narrowed his eyes.   
Abraxas turned to face Tom, he continued to read his book as if nothing had happened, as if his leg hadn’t rubbed against Abraxas’ in the most sensual way possible. As if he wasn’t deliberate brushing his fingers across Abraxas’ shoulder whenever he turned the page. Tom wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what he was doing and what it was doing to him. But this wasn’t all Tom’s fault, Abraxas knew he really shouldn’t be impacted like this, shouldn’t feel his skin prickle and his stomach drop every time Tom touched him.   
~  
Tom put his book down. “You all need to leave,” he said. Abraxas was the first to rise. “Not you,” said Tom, a hand on Abraxas’ thigh, in full view of the others, and guiding him back down.  
The other’s protested. “I have to talk to Abraxas.” Still many of them stayed.   
“I said leave.” There was a flicker in Tom’s voice of something dangerous. It was just enough to remind them that they followed him not the other way around.   
They filtered out, glaring at Abraxas as they passed him. They whispered to each other, Abraxas caught mentions of favouritism and a variety of motivations for such unprecedented partiality. Some suggestions were cruder than others, suggestions of what pretty face, and not so pretty reputation could mean.   
Unlike the others, Lestrange was not in a hurry to leave and hung back for a moment. Tom raised an eyebrow, “are you still here, Lestrange? I said I need to talk to Abraxas, alone.” His tone softened slightly, “I’ll see you later, the usual place. And Lestrange, make sure no one disturbs us.”   
Lestrange nodded and retreated. But not before glaring Abraxas up and down, judging everything from the ribbon in his hair to his expensive shoes.   
As soon as Lestrange left Tom pulled him by his tie and kissed him. It was hot and heavy and assertive and oh so good.   
“Was that as good as you imagined it would be?” said Tom, pulling away, “I feared I wouldn’t live up to your – high expectations?”  
Abraxas opened his mouth in a poor attempt to find the words that described remotely how he was feeling. “You were, it was – good.”  
“Just good? From the way you’re biting your lip and tapping your fingers and the hammering of your pulse I would guess, not only was it good, but you want so much more. Correct?”  
Although it was posed as a question, it wasn’t a question. Tom never asked questions he didn’t already know the answer to, and he seemed to know every inch of Abraxas.   
Tom inched forward and leaned closer, he caressed Abraxas’ collar, his nails occasionally catching on his neck. Abraxas swallowed thickly. He could feel his pulse throbbing, it was an incessant beat to which his entire body aligned himself. Yes, he wanted Tom, yes, he needed Tom, but he couldn’t just admit it; five years of secret fantasies clogged his throat and made concentrating on his lovely Tom hard enough, let along expressing this in some sort of coherent sentence.   
Tom looked at him carefully, probably sorting meticulously through these flustered thoughts; breaking down his awkwardness, condensing everything into a single idea.  
“You have to understand that I don’t love you, Abraxas,” he said, stroking a long finger down his cheek, “but you already knew that, didn’t you? I know it haunts you. But don’t take it personally, I don’t love anyone.”  
“You don’t have to love me – only use me, however you see fit.”  
“That’s sweet of you, but when I say love, you know what I mean. I don’t care for anyone – in that way. Flesh doesn’t entertain me like it does you.”  
Abraxas’ tried to hide the disappointment that was pooling in his stomach.   
“That doesn’t mean I am not entertained by your reaction though.”  
Abraxas looked up like a forgotten puppy hearing its name again. “So?” he said, playing at being coy as the Ravenclaw girls did so well.   
Tom cocked his head and moved his fingers from Abraxas’ chin, he traced them upward to the back of his neck. “So, I’ve decided the only way to deal with your debilitating distraction, is to sate it.”  
“Meaning?”  
“Meaning, I’ll do whatever you want, on my terms, of course.”  
~  
Abraxas kneeled before the bed, the coolness of the room settled on his skin like snow. It would have been too cold if he hadn’t been burning up inside.   
Tom sat on the bed, still fully clothed, looking down at him. “Did I tell you how pretty you are?” said Tom, leaning down to smooth a long strand of hair out of Abraxas’ face.   
“You said you would make an exception for your rule on begging.”  
Tom smiled, “I did, didn’t I. Not today though. I’ll save that for another time.” He traced two fingers across Abraxas’ ear and down his face before settling on his pulse.   
Abraxas licked his cracked lips, he wanted to ask, and Tom seemed as amicable as he was ever going to be.   
“Am I the first?” he asked watching Tom’s freckles.  
“You already know you’re not.”  
“Who was?”  
“Again, you already know,” said Tom; his fingers trailing down Abraxas’ sternum, nails scraping to leave a thin red line.  
“Lestrange?” said Abraxas, trying to keep the acidic tone that accompanied the name out of his mouth.   
“You don’t like him? I can’t have my friends not getting along –”  
“He’s a fucking snake.”  
“He has a spine,” said Tom, his nails scraping harder, leaving a much darker line that stung, “which I happen to value. I like people who aren’t afraid to do what I want them to. People who aren’t afraid to show me their devotion. People who are intriguing. Fortunately, Abraxas, you fit into the latter categories.”  
Tom offered him his hand, “sit on the bed.”  
~  
Abraxas sat cross-legged looking at Tom, if he was honest this wasn’t how he had intended the evening to go, but at the same time, he had a strange feeling that it might be leading somewhere.   
“What do you want, Abraxas?” said Tom. His fingers had crept lower and were carefully stroking his inner thighs.  
“I want you.”  
“How?” Tom cocked his head, “there are many ways to want, Abraxas. Slow and sticky sweet, or fast and violent, my teeth on your neck, your whines ringing in your ears. Or warm and wet and heavy; me kissing you until you’re moaning, touching you until you ache with a need you can’t fully explain. Fucking you, until your whole world blurs into mine. Until you understand nothing but the dull sharpness of desire and a pain that doesn’t hurt. As I said, there are many ways to want, which one do you crave?”   
“Your terms, your choice,” he said, his voice shaking and his throat feeling dry.   
Tom smiled and kissed him, and it was warm, and wet, and heavy. Tom pushed him onto his back and lay there between his legs. For a moment he just looked down at Abraxas, and Abraxas looked up at Tom; a stillness hung between them and shared thought for control. They stayed suspended in an endless moment until Abraxas closed his eyes and let the immense presence that was Tom overwhelm him.   
His kisses started at his neck, enough bite to remind him who he was letting explore his body, but enough softness to make him feel oddly safe. The dark pink line of kisses extended down his left side and glowed rosy in the overhead light.   
Tom’s nails dug into his thighs as he parted Abraxas’ legs, kissing more lines of pink along the inner thighs, soft thighs where bruises and bite marks could be easily hidden, where pleasure could be secreted until such a moment that it could be rediscovered and enjoyed alongside the hazy memories of clandestine meetings. Abraxas couldn’t help but arch his back and moan, reaching to pull at Tom’s hair until his hands were guided above his head to grasp feebly at the pillows.   
~  
When Tom fucked him, it was slow and hot. One hand wrapped around his cock, the other pushing his neck into the bed. His head ached with the heat, and all he could smell was the lavender of the duvet and the sheen sweat that was pooling at his neck.   
Tom was quiet, making Abraxas’ own whimpers all the more obvious. The whimpers increased as his thoughts dissolved, and the warmth of a subspace ran through his blood. He heard his voice crack in his dry throat when he cried out. And all the time, Tom was there, listening to the panting, fracturing sentences and incoherent praise that he elicited.   
He came to the incisive thrusts and gentle touches Tom gave him, and to the crackle of subconscious magic that surrounded Tom like a fog.  
~  
They lay facing each other under the covers, not touching but close enough that Abraxas could. It was in that silent, sleepiness that Abraxas could see clearly: Tom wasn’t perfect, but he was as close as any creature ever would be. Even now when drowsiness made his eyelids heavy, there was a flash of awareness; the danger Abraxas had come to love. It was just enough to remind him of the raw power that lurked under the delicate exterior of his leader, of his Tom.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> This is my first published fanfic, so any suggestions for improvement are appreciated.


End file.
